


Distractions in the Dark

by Celyan



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: But what else is new?, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Q is not sure about Bond, in a very Bond way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-24 22:19:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16184324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celyan/pseuds/Celyan
Summary: It’s getting late when Bond finds Q in his office. Flirting - and perhaps something more - ensues.





	Distractions in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone. :) I’m pretty new in the fandom and this one here is my first completed 00Q fic. So on that note, constructive criticism is more than welcome. 
> 
> Thank you to azure7539 for the beta, this fic would be so much more confusing without you.

Bond finds Q in his office again. It’s half past eight, and all the sensible people of MI6 are long since gone, leaving behind only the night shift of Q Branch. And, of course, Q himself, although Bond knows for a fact that he has been there since at least the previous morning, if not longer. 

Bond himself has returned from a Q-monitored mission earlier in the morning, personally brought back his kit to Q and dealt with debriefing, and even gone out for a drink or five with some other field agents. And yet, Q’s office still is where he finds Q, dark circles under his eyes and hair in disarray. Not that different from the norm, in other words, but this time there is a distinct lack of calm about the man, something Bond can sense the moment he steps into the office. 

Q looks up, distracted, and bites on his lower lip. ”007,” he says, ”I did not expect to see you tonight.”

”Neither did I,” Bond replies, ”but here we are.” He looks at Q and takes in the less than straight posture, the loosened tie, and the lack of the easily recognisable Scrabble mug at the table. He wonders when the last time Q ate or drank something was; though of course, there is a possibility, however tiny it may be, that the absence of anything edible means that Q is about to leave and, therefore, has tidied up his desk in anticipation of it. Unlikely, but well, a positive outlook never hurts anyone, right? 

”So it would seem,” Q says and rests his hands on his desk. ”Is there something I can help you with, now that you’re here?” he continues. 

”Perhaps,” Bond says and walks closer to the desk, eyes never leaving Q’s face. ”I find myself, curiously, in need of a distraction.”

Q blinks. “A distraction?” he echoes, and it’s clear that he has no idea what Bond is talking about. Well, he can work with that, although it is somewhat of a blow to his ego to notice that Q seems to have forgotten all about their earlier flirtations over the comms. And here he thought that he had actually made an impression on his Quartermaster during his latest mission. But no matter; he’ll just try harder, then.

“Yes,” Bond nods and moves to where Q sits, stopping once he is standing behind Q’s chair. “Something to take my mind off of things.”

”Things?” Q turns to face him again and looks, if possible, even more confused. ”Truly, 007, you have lost me,” he tells him quite honestly, and Bond smiles at that. 

”No,” he says, ”it seems that I have _found_ you, here, all by your lonesome.” 

Q looks like he wants to say something, so Bond hurries on. ”And since I found you, doesn’t it mean that I get to keep you, too?”

”Alright, what are you on about?” Q demands. ”And please keep in mind that I have not slept in over 30 hours, so do try to keep it short and simple.” The ’if you can’ part is left unsaid but not unexpressed, for Q’s eyes can say a lot more than his mouth lets on. 

Bond puts a hand over the back of Q’s chair, which brings him rather closer to the other man than expected. ”Those are the rules,” he says. ”Don’t tell me no one has seen fit to inform you?” 

”You are making even less sense than usual, which is a feat in itself. I am unsure whether I should congratulate you or send you back for another set of psych evals,” Q says and stands up, intent on putting some space between the two of them. Bond lets him, for now, and watches him settle on in front of his own desk. Then he follows him. 

”You wound me, Q. I thought that we had an understanding here.”

Q rolls his eyes. ”Spare me the flirtations, 007. It is much too late in the evening for that.” 

”It’s never too late to flirt with a beautiful man,” Bond replies with a smile. 

Q looks like he isn’t quite sure what to think. ”Your distraction for the night is to come to my branch and flirt with me?”

”Sure,” Bond nods.

”Please don’t.”

”I think you’ll find that it’s already too late for such a request, though,” Bond says and watches with great interest how Q frowns and begins to fidget a little, no doubt trying to find something smart to say that would perhaps help him to change the subject. Too bad for him that Bond has a different plan, one he hopes Q isn’t too tired to realise. It cannot be good for him to forgo sleep for such a long time, after all. 

”So will you be the distraction for me?” he asks.

”Tempting, but I fear I must decline,” Q replies dryly. 

”What if that’s not an option?”

”You do realise that would go over the line of mere flirtation, don’t you?”

Bond grins. ”Not if it’s consensual.” 

”And if it isn’t?” Q tilts his head and holds eye contact. 

”I am a Double-O agent,” Bond simply says. 

”A licence to kill does not equal to a licence to coerce one’s Quartermaster into, well, whatever it is that you’re hinting at.”

”Does it not?”

Q sighs. ”Are you still flirting with me? Because if you are, I must inform you that you are losing your touch.”

”If it’s my touch that you want, I can surely accommodate you,” Bond smiles and takes a few steps closer to Q. 

Q glares at him, though Bond could swear there is a hint of a smile in there somewhere, too. ”Alright, you have had your fun. Feel free to stop now.”

”No, thank you,” Bond says cheerfully and brings a hand to rest on Q’s shoulder. He can feel him tense at the touch, but since Bond has no wish to truly antagonise him, he keeps it light and gentle, more to gauge at his reaction than anything else, before pulling his hand away again.

Q looks surprised, then thoughtful. “You know, I should ask you to leave.” 

“Are you sure you want that, though?” Bond asks.

”I could be,” Q says. 

”Now that is just vague,” Bond points out. ”But I can work with that.”

“You are impossible,” Q tells him.

“I have been told that before, yes.”

”I’m sure you have,” is all Q says to that.

Bond grins. ”So, about that distraction.” 

”You’re not letting that one go anytime soon, are you?” 

”Of course not, if it means that I can get you.”

”If I close my eyes and count to ten, will you be gone when I open them again?” Q asks, eyes wider and voice holding a half shocked, half resigned tone to it. 

Bond smirks. ”You may try,” he says, happy as you please.

Q lets out a small sigh. ”Christ, 007, _why_ are you _here_?” he asks, almost moans, and looks quite ready to pull out his own hair at the smallest hint of provocations. 

Bond just chuckles at that and leans in close, crowding the smaller man to his desk. ”Because I want to,” he murmurs, lips barely touching the skin of Q’s right ear.

Q tries to hide his gasp from the unexpected closeness, but Bond can feel it due to their proximity. Sweet little boffin, he thinks affectionately, and circles his arms around Q’s waist, gentle but firm. He presses a tiny kiss against the skin of Q’s throat, right at the spot that he has been eyeing since the first time he saw his beautiful Quartermaster. 

”Um... Bond?” Q sounds a mix of unsure and surprised, his hands coming to rest against his upper chest, not pushing him away (yet, anyway) but not holding onto him either. ”What are you doing...?”

”Kissing you,” Bond replies easily, moving his lips down that long neck, leaving tiny open-mouthed kisses on their wake. Q shivers, and Bond takes it as encouragement, a permission to bite down at where his neck meets his shoulder. He needs a hand to push away the collar of Q’s shirt to be able to do so, but it only takes him a few seconds, and then he has the privilege to leave his mark on that unmarred skin.

”Well, I can-” Q starts but another gasp interrupts him, and Bond can feel him twitch against his hold. ”-feel that,” he ends the sentence in a breathless murmur. 

Bond smiles against Q’s skin, so smooth and lovely, and he can hardly wait to see how good his mark will look on him. He’ll make sure that it will be nice and dark, he thinks, sucking on the skin around the mark.

Q squirms. ”I don’t remember giving you permission to bite me,” he says, no doubt aiming for a tone of indignation. Yet, he still isn’t pushing Bond away, a fact Bond counts as a win.

”Mm, you didn’t, not in so many words that is,” Bond murmurs from his spot and licks at the skin. Q tastes somewhat sweet, like strawberries and coconut, and Bond finds himself quite addicted to the taste. He wonders whether Q tastes like that elsewhere as well. Perhaps he’ll be lucky enough to find it out in the near future. 

Q frowns, but his hands are no longer motionless against Bond’s chest. Instead, they move upwards a little, to his shoulders, and Bond can feel a hint of their strength through his shirt. He smiles, because surely this is progress. 

”I didn’t give you permission for any of this, though perhaps I could be persuaded to change my mind,” Q tells Bond. ”What I need to know, however, is why are you doing this, really? And if you say because you want to, I will be very cross with you.” 

Bond chuckles. ”I do want to, though,” he says and nuzzles at Q’s neck, gentle and affectionate. Q does not seem to mind the continued touch now, though he does make a small sound of amusement or annoyance at his choice of words. ”And I have been waiting to do this since the day we met,” he adds, perfectly nonchalant, and pulls away enough to admire his handiwork. 

”You have?” Q sounds so adorably surprised that Bond wants to kiss him, but he tells himself to wait for a bit longer. He does want Q to kiss him back, after all. 

”Indeed I have,” he nods and then makes quick work of righting Q’s collar, hiding his mark from view. They both still know it’s there, but no one else needs to, not yet anyway. 

”Oh, um...” Q blinks at him, for the moment clearly unable to express himself in the form of a proper sentence, and Bond smiles at him fondly. 

“You, my dearest Quartermaster, are absolutely adorable,” he tells Q, as honest as he ever will be. He pulls Q closer to his body, one arm back around his waist while the other starts to slide up and down on his back, slow and gentle and soothing. He wants to make the experience as pleasant for the man in his arms as he can, to hopefully pave way for further encounters. After all, Q has not once tried to actually push him away, even if he is not completely relaxed either. But that must mean that he isn’t against Bond’s affections, if not yet ready to reciprocate them. However, Bond can wait; waiting is what he is good at.

“I... am not sure what you expect from me,” Q says, voice quiet and fingers clenching against the material of Bond’s shirt. He is no longer making eye contact, either; instead, he seems to be looking at his own hands and the way they hold onto his shirt. Bond swears he can feel the confusion emanating from Q, as if he is wondering when exactly he has started to do that, and it makes Bond adore the man even more.

“I want you to enjoy this,” Bond tells him, echoing the sentiment he remembers sharing with him around the end of the mission. “And I would be happy with a kiss, though I will be content to wait until you feel comfortable with it,” he adds and once again leans closer to nuzzle at Q’s neck. 

Q says nothing to that, but after a moment he does relax more, going so far as to lightly wrap his arms around Bond, tilt his head, and lean his jaw against Bond’s shoulder. Bond takes advantage of that and plants a number of tiny, lazy kisses on Q’s neck while holding him close in a gentle hug. He resists the temptation of Q’s wild curls, promising himself that next time, he will bury his hand into their softness, and doesn’t let go until much later, when the shadows are deeper and the glow of the laptop does little to banish them into the corners of the room. Only then does he pull back, slow and careful, and lets Q lean against the desk again. 

“I hope you’re going home now as well,” he says with a meaningful glance at the clock. If he has accomplished nothing else tonight, at least getting Q to go back home and sleep means that it has all been worth it. 

Q nods and runs a hand through his hair. “I am,” he says as he looks at Bond. “Thank you… for being honest with me.” 

Bond chuckles. “It was my pleasure,” he assures Q and winks, which has the advantage of making him flush and start to fidget. He looks like he wants to do something with his hands, perhaps reach for his laptop, but also like he is not really sure if he should turn his back to Bond right now. Bond shows mercy on him and turns, walking to the door. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yes?” he says and, after Q’s tiny nod, wishes him a pleasant evening before finally exiting the office and leaving Q Branch for the night.


End file.
